Fallen Into Madness
by BlackHorse99
Summary: My mother, Alyssa Gardner, had failed. I've seen the moth, he beckons me to Wonderland, calling me to do what my mother couldn't finish. To fix Alice's mistakes. But all I can do is stare at my reflection and wonder why. I'm Adriana Holt, and this is the story of how I lost my mind.
1. Chapter 1

_ The Moth tells me how my mother couldn't fix Alice's wrongs, how I was special, how I had been mad long before my ancestors, and that gave me time._

_He says she hadn't even made it past the Eat Me cake, as Allison had ripped her from Wonderland, having gone so insane they could sedate her any longer._

_He tells me that because I am special, he'll take care of me. And that he'll never let me get hurt. _

_He takes my shaking pale hand, and puts it over his heart. He whispers that it beats for me._

* * *

And then I wake up, like always. The strange dreams never end, Mom always used to tell me about the moth, about how he was dangerously beautiful, how his lies had never crossed her until the end. I never believed her until I started having the visions about two years ago, starting on my 15th birthday.

Of course I didn't tell Mom, she's freaking crazy. But Dad won't put her in an asylum like Gramps did to Allison, as he hated seeing how unhappy Mom was when they went. He's just as insane.

Therefore, they stay at home, and let the the entire small neighborhood in London, where we live, think we all are mental cases.

I live with my head turned down to the ground, taking the Underground to school everyday, tying silvery blonde hair that looks more white than golden into a half-up style, trying to keep my distance from everyone, so they won't look at you. But I know they're staring at me.

Me, Adriana Holt, that strange kid who sits in the back of class, twirling a piece of hair, while trailing her eyes across the pages of her notebook as she doodles horrific scenes of supernatural war and strife. The one the teachers even elect to ignore.

The daughter of the town psycho and her equally "insanely artistic husband". They moved here after they were pulled out from Wonderland, they couldn't stand to look Allison in the eye, so they followed their dreams to go to art school in London.

And so here I was born, never earning myself the pureblood English accent, as my slang was still American.

Aunt Taelor and Aunt Jenara actually both ended up moving with us, Mom and Aunt Taelor made up after they realized they actually had a lot in common.

Since Mom was never allowed to dye her hair or wear as much makeup as she wished, she let me. I've wanted to dye the white out of my hair for years, but no matter what I've tried, nothing will last more than a week.

So I've gotten used to lining my supernatural looking eyes with a shitload of black eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and black mascara. I've given up trying to hide them.

In minutes, I've arrived at the hellhole commonly known as school. Although Mom always told me to never judge others, you don't know what's behind their smiles, I still can look around and pick out the stereotypes. Jocks, Preps, Band and Drama Geeks, Regular Geeks, Nerds, People who think they're nerds, The Outcasts, The Artists, And people like me who can't even be an outcast since we fit in no groups, not multiple.

I've found three people like me. But they all have their groups, but they've found me through different aspects of my personality.

Artist _Amy Erin Lincoln_. Doesn't matter which name, still freaking hilarious, and a horrible liar, but a good person, and seems to like the way I draw death..

Short brunette hair, paint stains on her arms, always a warm shoulder to cry on when I feel lost in my madness.

Born into a family of drug addicts, and removed herself from the premises to live with her grandmother.

And then there's Regular Geek _Ryan Hart_, who shares a certain interest in the supernatural I seem to see and doodle.

He constantly is giving me tidbits about fandoms and fanboy moments, I've become a fan of many TV shows because of him.

Floppy, always messy dirty blonde hair, and black tips, because he's convinced he's a hipster. Strong arms that keep me upright when I feel like falling apart.

Has a normal family, I've met his mom once, she invited me and my parents over for dinner. She honestly thought Ryan and I were dating. But of course I wouldn't tell my parents someone wanted to meet them, so I went over, and said they were out.

And finally is one of the Outcasts, _Willow Capulet_, yes, like the Capulet in Romeo and Juliet, thanks for asking. She's in the Drama Club, the Marching Band, on the basketball team, and get high honors. Too many categories, not enough friends in one place.

We met when I was eating my lunch outside by a tree on the commons, and she was on her way to an AP class, when I gave her an apple, as she looked starving. And so, we became lunch time friends.

* * *

Entering a school, you can almost feel the depression and anxiety hanging over kids in the halls. I would, except they all shy away from the crazy girl.

My locker is near the the middle of the school. Unfortunately, this also means that I get pushed around a lot.

And that was how I ended up getting knocked out and landed myself in the nurse's before second period.


	2. Chapter 2

"There you go, sugar." The nurse, an overweight, rather uptight woman, with dark hair tied behind a head wrap, gave me a brief pat on my shoulder, a sympathetic look the only sincere thing about her. I had to shut my eyes to avoid the eye roll coming on.

"Make sure you keep the ice pack on until the end of the day, it's possible you could've gotten a concussion…" The woman continued, her eyes tracing over my much smaller form, holding an icepack to my temple, which had hit the lockers first. I'm sure as I stood up, and walked out without saying a word, she must've gotten the point. I threw the cold pack in the trash before exiting, and ignoring the pass to Pre-Calc and heading for the outdoor study. Pulling out my sketchbook, I sat cross-legged on the soft, well kept lawn, my attention drawn to the gardener, clipping roses.

_I'm sure he'd let you paint them red if you wanted._

A silent laugh and a subtle smile quickly grew as the Cockney accent filled my mind. I looked to my shoulder, a beautiful blue and black moth resting there. Before I had the chance to open my eyes following a slow blink, I felt an arm slung around my waist. But of course, only I could see the netherling. The blue haired boy gave me a flirty smile, before sitting forward.

_What brings you outside today? Are you ready?_

I shook my head with the refusal, a breath getting caught in my throat. I gave him a small smile, reassuring him it would be soon. Just…not today.

_It's alright. _

But his voice had a tone to it that told me otherwise. I sighed, and leaned back, his folded arm keeping me from completely reclining. I was about to respond with something clever when something colliding with my back caused me to flip over, tumbling over the grass and into a fountain, hitting my head, yet again.

"Man, I am so sorry." A muscular hand grabbed at my shoulders, attempting to stand me upright. Fingers much thicker than my slender ones brushed my hair, or tried to, back into place, the other hand holding me up.

As my eyes focused, I held my head in my hand, and pushed him away.

"It no problem, just go." He seemed hurt by my words, but didn't move.

"You look really pale, are you alright?" I looked him up and down as he questioned, closely cropped blonde hair and bright blue eyes, kind of like mine…not quite. He was beefy, obviously a jock. He wore a lacrosse varsity jacket. Not at all someone who should be talking to me.

"I'm fine. Naturally porcelain." I pressed, rolling my eyes, before attempting to walk, and falling flat on my face. But I didn't make contact with the ground. I dizzily stared up, the boy holding my waist tightly, one hand cradling my head with the utmost care.

"Not fine." I didn't notice before, but his accent was distinctly American. His expression was laced with concern. I closed my eyes. "_Soooo _not fine."

I shook a bit, and asked him politely to stand me back up. He complied, but kept his hands on me.

"Hey, are you a transfer?" I asked, my mind now locked on the topic.

He nodded, raising an eyebrow. "You know the answer, I'm in your Orchestra class. I'm an exchange student for my junior and senior year, we had a whole class talking about it."

I blinked, recalling. Oh yes, that was right….Collin? Carson? What the hell was his name?

"Connor?" He raised the eyebrow higher. "We did that super complicated viola and violin duet for our last assessment."

Music class? I completely forgot. I gave a weak smile. "I remember."

"You really must've hit your head." He rubbed my shoulder. Or maybe I just don't remember people who don't talk to me outside of class.

"Must've." I looked away, My butterfly was gone, probably for another week. I was annoyed at this boy, he ruined my day.

"Would you like me to bring you to the nurse?" He tilted his head.

"I'm fine, I'll just finish studying."

"I didn't realize you had this study… I've never seen you out here before." He laughed.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm skipping Pre-Calc, okay?"

He held up one hand, the other still supporting me. "Okay, I won't say anything, we can walk up to the music room together now though."

I nodded. "My case is in my locker."

"Then we'll head up there." He gave a warm smile. I hadn't expected to pick up an instrument, but my mother insisted, and the school offered a free, professional level viola to whoever could learn a Mozart song fastest and play it best. And so, I'm now the first chair. He was a violin, piano, and drum prodigy who also happened to be a starting lacrosse midfield for the American national team. I understood why they chose him for the exchange program. It amused me greatly how different he was from everyone here, more so in the fact he talked to me.

_Keep moving. There's no need for him to come with you. _

Okay then, fine. As we had made it just about to the door, I brushed my hair behind my shoulder., letting his hand fall off, showing him I was alright. I didn't look back.

"I'm actually okay. Just go to class." I pushed the door so that it stayed open a moment for him, before I disappeared down a hallway.

"Who was that on the commons with you?" Willow had taken a seat at the base of my locker. I rolled my eyes for the thousandth time that day, using my foot to push her out of the way, opening my locker. "You skipped Pre-Cal. I don't appreciate that. We have a test tomorrow and you missed review. I look outside and I see you fall into some boy's arms?"

"He's no one, someone from my Orchestra class." I kept my gaze at my locker, grabbing the viola case out and swinging it over my shoulder.

"He's cute, he's in AP World History with me." Ryan appeared behind Willow, a comic pout on his face. "But I think he's straight, unfortunately for me, lucky for you."

"Guys." I slam my locker, growling under my breath. "I don't want a boyfriend."

_You already have me, who else would you need?_

"Alright, alright, don't be so touchy." Willow gave me a sarcastic side glance and took Ryan's arm, as they headed off to Physics or something. I sighed, straightened out the strap of the case, and took the elevator down to the music room.

"Glad to see you didn't pass out again!" Connor seemed to have been waiting by the door, which caught me off guard, almost taking his head off using my case as a weapon. "Whoa, whoa there, calm."

I glared. "Sit down in your section."

He raised an eyebrow, a competitive look rising behind his bright eyes. "This is my section. Actually, yes, it's _my _section, as in I'm pretty sure as first violin I get to lead here. Don't you remember? Maybe you really did hit your head.."

"He's right." Some cellist piped up, her tone obvious as trying to defend him. A few other girls nodded their agreement, and others followed, some laughing at his comment, unknowing that I actually did hit my head, they all thought I was just crazy. I bit my lip, frustrated. This was the exact reason I hated people. Oh, he's popular, let's all take his side. Of course, yes, he's in charge of tuning. That doesn't mean he's directly in charge of me.

"Whatever." I narrowed my eyes, opened my case, grabbed the bow and instrument, and walked out into one of the private practice rooms. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding in, realizing I had forgotten my music in the main room. There was no way I was going back to get that. I instead went over scales, trying different arpeggios, and playing portions of the music I remembered by heart.

"Sounds great, but you're a little sharp, I can help if you'd like." I tensed, not expecting his voice again. I handed him my instrument, and sat down on the ground.

"Have at it." I shot, trying my best to make it as menacing as I could. He squatted down by me, placing it on his shoulder, resting his chin down, and drawing the bow across the strings. He adjusted each and every detail, until it was good as the tuner could've done. He handed it back.

"I'm sorry about that." He turned, and left me alone. I sighed, and continued with my music.

_Want accompaniment? _

No, I don't, actually. No thanks. I'm a much better soloist.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm so sorry it takes me so long to update! Thank you so much to those who favorite and follow and review and those who read, all of you matter so much to me!**

* * *

I really _really _hated having to wait after school for someone to pick me up. Most people were in the middle of getting their licenses, or they had them already. And here I was, sitting on the curb outside the main entrance, brushing myself off every single time someone drove past and kicked up dirt. It was times like this I sincerely wished I had a hard case for my viola. Not so that I could sit on it, but so that I could bang it on my head and I'd pass out and I wouldn't have to suffer sitting here.

"Adriana! Wait up!" I heard my name roll off that terrible American boy's tongue. What was I waiting for, it was obvious I was not planning on moving any time soon. I had to figure out something to get him to not talk to me. Where was that butterfly when you needed him most?

"Not going anywhere." My voice came out just as snarky as I'd imagined it, and I smirked to myself, proud of the expression the blonde was beginning to develop. My butt stayed put on the curb, and although he slowed down, he still came over and plopped his ass next to me, much to my displeasure.

"Good, because I wanted to talk to you about today." His eyes caught mine and never let go. His gaze was firm, holding me to him like glue. Something about him made it impossible to look away, but I pushed myself until I found my gaze back on the pavement. His face was far too close to mine, but he spoke anyways. "I didn't ask for them to back me up. I didn't mean to make you feel as though you were being picked on, or anything like that. And when I apologized before, I figured you didn't believe me. I wanted to make sure you heard me say that I'm really sorry."

"It's been heard. Thanks, I forgive you, you can go run to practice or something." My voice was still rather rude, a bit ruder than I would've liked. I brought my face up to meet his a moment, and gave him the best smile I could muster. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tonight?" Connor raised an eyebrow, tapping his violin case and then his lacrosse bag. "I should be seeing you tonight. We have a sectional and then i would like you to come watch my game, if you'd like to."

"I'll ask." I stood up, brushing myself off. I'd have to go for the sectional, we had a concert coming up soon. But the game? There was no reason to stay out that late to watch sports. Even if it was this kid, who seemed to be a big shot. I was never a follower, I saw no reason to start now.

"I hope to see you there! We are a generally new team, but we're good!" He seemed adamant to defend the team. That either meant this team suck and he felt the need to justify it, or he just was trying to show off. Either way, I didn't get much more of a read on him as he grabbed his stuff and jogged back towards the theater.

...

I was home for about an hour and a half, and in that hour and a half, I managed to not only piss off my mother, but also have her rip up my favorite drawing that I had ever done. I laid on my bed, clutching the pieces of paper that once formed together to be a deep blue silhouette of a girl in a dress against the shadow of a man with wings that looked very much like a butterfly. I had been so proud of the drawing, even Dad said I was channeling my inner him. I enjoyed art, it took you away from the work that tears innocent souls to shreds. Like my mother who shredded my drawing. Dad blamed it on her insanity, but I knew that she was just jealous that Morpheus loved me more. I threw on a pair of black leggings and a long blue shirt and my converse and I basically ran out of the house with my viola case strapped to my back. I headed back over to the school, where I was early and therefore had time to set up and be completely ready on time.

"Who do you think you are?" I hadn't begun my B-flat major scale before I heard a voice more annoying than nails on chalkboard. A Prep, Justine Rivers to be exact. She was head of the debate team and a cellist. Unfortunately, she also seemed interested in Connor, and therefore felt the need to assert her dominance over me by antagonizing me. "You're the freaky girl, why would he even care about you. Back off freak."

"You used freak twice. You're on debate team. You should know better than to say it twice." My smirk grew as her frown deepened. I turned my back and began plucking strings, but she badgered me on.

"You're too ugly for him anyways." She spit in my general direction. I sighed. What immense class. I loved high school. "Leave him alone, leave him for me."

"Go ahead," I waved her on. "I'm sure your winning personality is your best trait."

She was looking like she was contemplating hitting me, until Connor himself came through the door, wearing his lacrosse uniform. Justine looked like she was swooning. I knew that somewhere deep inside me, competition was brewing. But it was wrong to go after his heart with the only purpose being to prove someone wrong. I put the thoughts on the back burner while we tuned, and moved into our pieces. Connor had a pass to leave early, and so by working hard, our band director let us out early to see the game. Amy-Erin had promised she'd be there, so I agreed to go. I saved her a seat beside me as I sat down while the team was warming up. I didn't know much about lacrosse, but from what I knew it was small, but growing in England. Connor looked very talented. Beyond anyone out there on the field, he was visibly and technically by the best. It seemed like gametime was further and further away, so I went to go get some candy, and who else but Justine was here to see all of her men, she was quite the girl that got around. With a sigh, I resumed my seat back up on the bleachers, excited to see this go down. Something exciting might actually happen, and thankfully, I had a great seat to watch. Especially with the blue butterfly that landed on my shoulder.


End file.
